


oh lunatique

by andnowforyaya



Series: heats [1]
Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Bullying, Consent Issues, Discrimination, Gen, Gender Roles, M/M, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Rape Culture, Slut Shaming, Tags will be updated as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:10:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1431367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Youngjae wishes Daehyun would just shut up, but that doesn't mean he'd allow anyone else to do the honors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The nurse isn't happy with him. Youngjae can see it in the furrow of her brow and the way she clicks her tongue and shakes her head in her dark little office.

Youngjae is propped up on one of the cots in the back, and the nurse is resetting the bones of his two littlest fingers of his left hand.

"You know that Jiho is an alpha," Jieun reprimands. "Why would you go picking a fight with him?"

Youngjae scowls. The bones of his smallest finger pop back into place under Jieun's care and it stings. "I don't know. I didn't think what he did was funny. I guess I should have controlled my temper better."

He looks down, to show he is sorry, but Jieun sputters, laughing.

"He got what he deserved," she says. "It's just too bad you got roughed up in the process."

She wipes a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic across a cut left by Jiho's claws over his forehead.

He winces.

"This is about your friend, isn't it?"

Youngjae's heart suddenly swells, his breath stuttering. "Is he here?"

Jieun nods.

"Can I see him?"

"Oh, I don't think that's a good idea," Jieun says hastily. She tapes Youngjae's broken and reset fingers together. "He's in a difficult position right now."

At Youngjae's deflating posture, she sighs, sympathetic. "I wish I could say this kind of thing doesn't happen too often, but that would be a lie. Omegas don't have it easy in the world, Youngjae."

Youngjae knows this. Every wolf knows this.

But ever since he turned thirteen he's been reminded of this almost daily.

They'd moved into the dorms, then, the alphas and the betas together. He still remembers the look on Daehyun's face when they realized they wouldn't even be in the same _building_.

Though they shared classes with the others, omegas had a separate dorm and schedules staggered to avoid physical activities with the other wolves; they had separate facilities. He and Daehyun had grown up together, sleeping on the same mattress and fighting over the same video game controllers and running the same trails. Now, Daehyun had to be escorted to Youngjae's building, signed in and out, and couldn't stay past sundown.

He misses his friend. Even more since, during class when they _are_  able to see each other, Daehyun is tense and distracted, leered at like so much meat by the other wolves in their class.

It wouldn’t be so bad, except that Daehyun leers back. He's perfected that arrogant smirk that belongs on an alpha's face, can hold it even when Jiho mutters under his breath, "Omega slut," and snickers at him.

Jieun finally checks his eyes, shining a light to them, and she nods briskly.

“I know,” he mumbles to her. He’s visited her station more often than he can count, usually because of something that Daehyun has dragged him into. “But I wish he wouldn’t make himself such an easy target.”

It’s been two years since they moved and since then Daehyun hasn't changed much. He remembers playing together in the woods, his bright, carefree laugh, the way his eyes would flash gold if he found something amusing, unable to hide his thoughts that way.

Daehyun has always been an open book.

Lately, though, Youngjae thinks it would be helpful if he could close it, just a little. He gets it - Daehyun doesn’t like that omegas can’t play with the betas and the alphas, that they live in separate dorms. He doesn’t like that he can’t see Youngjae whenever he wants. He doesn’t like that he has to get an Alpha’s permission to do just about anything other than eat, work, and sleep. He doesn’t like that omegas have to prove they are taking their suppressors to their hall’s resident advisors, every night, before going to bed.

The alphas of his year seem to have taken a liking to treating Daehyun like the lowest rung on the ladder - forming blockades with their bodies in the hallways so that he can’t pass, stealing his books and dumping them into the stream behind the school, stage-whispering as he walked by (“I bet you like all the attention. I bet you want it, anyway. Little omega attention-whore. Little omega whore.”) - but this time --

He’d sat with Daehyun so many times after their taunts and pranks and mean acts, holding him or distracting him with video games or food or just sitting with him if he needed to curl up in Youngjae’s bed for a while.

\-- but this time Youngjae saw red.

The little hairs on his arms still bristle when he thinks about it.

The sharp, foreign smell of honey and something else tangibly sweet and floral in the air, and Daehyun’s horrible groan.

Mr. Choi had stopped teaching immediately, his eyes gold, and looked right at the two friends sitting together near the back of the class.

Youngjae turned to Daehyun with wide eyes, and saw him red-cheeked and breathing hard, one arm curled over his stomach and the other digging into his school bag.

By then Mr. Choi was already standing before them. When he spoke, he sounded like he was trying very much not to breathe. Addressing Daehyun, he said, “I need you to come with me.”

Everyone in class was staring.

Daehyun’s eyes were glassy and wet, and Youngjae wanted so badly to reach over to hold his hand, but Mr. Choi was blocking him, and he had a feeling, suddenly, that he wasn’t supposed to touch.

“I don’t understand why this is happening,” Daehyun stammered, panicked. “I haven’t skipped a day.”

“Can you stand up?” Mr. Choi said again.

The other young wolves in class had all turned. Youngjae saw Jiho smirking, leaning over and whispering something to his friend, Chanyeol. They both snickered.

Daehyun groaned again and the smell strengthened.

Jiho and Chanyeol stopped laughing. Their eyes turned color, too. Something about Daehyun in that moment made Youngjae want to shift, to mark and claim.

“You need to stand up,” Mr. Choi said.

Daehyun tried. Youngjae saw how he pushed against the table, but his legs shook and the palms of his hands were slippery.

“I can’t,” Daehyun cried. “I can’t stand up. I’m sorry. I can’t stand up.”

Their teacher reached down and wrapped a large hand around Daehyun’s upper arm, and Daehyun screamed, like he’d been burned, and then Mr. Choi wrenched him up and hauled him easily into his arms, though Daehyun twisted, whimpering.

“It’s okay,” their teacher said. “It’s going to be fine.”

He carried Daehyun out.

A moment later, the class snapped to, as though out of a daze.

Jiho said something.

It didn’t matter what he said; Youngjae had seen him laugh, and he knew whatever had just happened, Jiho had the master hand in it.

But then he looked right at Youngjae and snarled, “What a little a _bitch_ ,” and Youngjae launched himself at him, growling, the wolf they are trained to keep at bay shivering right under his skin.

Now, Jieun tsks at him, and he blinks, remembering where he is.

“You think that’s what this is? You think your friend made himself a target?”

Youngjae frowns. “No - that’s not what I meant.”

“That’s literally what you just said.”

“I just mean that if he would just - if he would just stop _talking_  so much about it, maybe the alphas wouldn’t care. Maybe they would leave him alone.”

Jieun’s eyes flash. He shivers and ducks, cowed.

“That’s not how it works,” she says.

Youngjae grumbles. When she says nothing more, he asks her, agitated, “Why can’t I see him?”

“Let me ask him. Do you know...what actually happened?”

“Did he - did he take something, by accident? Is he sick?”

“He’s not _sick_ , even if some people will say that he is, right now. Some fools replaced his suppressors with sugar pills. How much you wanna bet the school’s not going to look too hard into it? He’s been off the meds for a couple of weeks now. And, well, this is the result.” She looks unhappy. There’s a pinch in the corners of her lips and a dip in her brow as she puts away her examining equipment. “We’re moving him to the omega nurse station when classes are over and the halls are a little emptier. Nothing to do now but to have him - ride it out.”

Youngjae turns the words over in his head and swallows the lump in his throat. “You mean - he’s--” he lowers his voice to a whisper -- “He’s in Heat?”

Jieun says, “It’s not a bad word.”

“I know that,” Youngjae snaps.

“I’ll ask him if he wants to talk to you. Sometimes - it’s usually very personal, okay? Omegas all experience their Heats differently. He may not want to talk to you, at all, and you’ll need to respect that.”

“Okay.”

It’s a ridiculous thought - of course Daehyun will want to talk to him. He’s _Youngjae_.

She leaves him alone. There’s a room in the back that Youngjae has never been in, and you have to turn the corner and walk down a little ways to reach it. Jieun goes to that room, disappearing behind the corner, her heels clacking down the hallway.

Youngjae thinks about Jiho again. Jiho and his little beta pack, already forming. A knot materializes in his stomach. He would never join a pack like that.

“He says hi,” Jieun says, re-emerging. “But he doesn’t want you to see him.”

Youngjae looks up at her. She has her arms crossed in front of her chest and she shakes her head at him, sensing his confusion before he feels it himself.

Daehyun _always_  wants to see him. They’ve shared everything with each other for years, and they’ve seen each other at their worsts and at their bests, and Youngjae can’t believe that Daehyun doesn’t even want to look at him right now, not after Youngjae split his knuckles for him.

“What?”

“I told you - it’s very personal.”

“When will this be over, then?”

Jieun shrugs. “I think it’s best for you to get back to Mr. Choi. He'll want to speak to you. Daehyun will be fine.”

A snarl rips from his throat before he can contain it, and it startles him, the sudden itch under his skin.

"Don't get mad at _me_ ," Jieun says. She flicks him on his forehead, and he blinks, rolling his shoulders down to release tension.

"Sorry," he mumbles, knowing that he won't be able to focus in class for the rest of the day.

.


	2. Chapter 2

He’s suspended for a day for fighting. He would be upset, but Jiho is suspended for two.

Mr. Choi tasks him with cleaning the boys’ locker room, so he spends the early morning breathing through a paper face mask, the stench of bleach strong within the tiled walls of the changing room.

By the time the sun is at its high point in the sky, Youngjae has cleaned the showers, and the benches, and the sinks.

“Just the actual lockers, now,” Mr. Choi says, tossing him a clean rag. “But just until two o’clock or so. Then you need to go around to your classes and pick up work.” He closes the door behind him.

The lockers are a mess. Youngjae can’t picture himself cleaning more than one row - he opens the first in a long series of them, body-length tall and creaky metal, and sees graffiti littering the inside.

Slurs and curses and crude pictures of dicks and tits.

He sighs, and sets to work, scrubbing off the marker as best as he can until his knuckles are red and his fingers pruney.

Halfway down the row, he opens the next locker, and stares.

There’s a chart taped up on the back wall, simple and drawn on lined notebook paper, ripped in the corner where some of the tape has worn off. There’s a list of names running down one side.

He doesn’t really recognize the first couple of names; they ring a bell, like he’s heard of them in passing when he was younger. As he reads down the line, familiarity and dread tug at his chest.

_Luhan_  
 _Tiffany_  
 _Sungjae_  
 _Leeyoo_  
 _Sora_  
 _Baekhyun_  
 _Junhong_

It’s a list of the omegas of each year, and next to the names are tally marks, and some names have more than others. He isn’t sure what it means, but it makes his chest constrict, as his imagination runs wild.

Daehyun’s name is on there, too. There are tally marks by his name - almost as many as by Tiffany’s. Youngjae tries to remember who Tiffany is, but all he can conjure up is the feeling of a pretty girl and long, flowing hair. She must be older.

There are things written to the side of the chart, some in light pencil, others in heavy ink.

_would fuck;_  
 _won’t put out;_  
 _too much trouble;_  
 _so easy;_  
 _said no but sucked dick anyway;_

Youngjae rips the chart from the wall. It tears into two, but he is not satisfied. He rips the pieces into smaller pieces, balling them all up into his hand, and then he walks over to the toilets and flushes the shreds down, watching them swirl into the pipes.

He tries not to think about what others might have written about Daehyun, what words on that chart had been about him, what those tally marks meant.

.

The omega dorm is smaller than his own, separate from the other cluster of school buildings with the courtyard between them. He passes through the double doors and stops by the security desk.

There’s a turnstile that the omegas who live here swipe their ID cards through for access. Youngjae, being a beta, has to check in.

Sungmin smiles at him from behind the security desk. He places both hands on the table, easy and familiar, and says, “Jung Daehyun, right?”

Youngjae nods and hands over his ID. “How’s it going?”

“Oh,” Sungmin says, shrugging. “Same old, same old.”

Youngjae watches as Sungmin swipes his ID through the reader in front of him, hand already reaching for the card, feet already turned to the turnstile entrance, but then Sungmin frowns.

He swipes Youngjae’s card through again.

“What’s wrong?” Youngjae asks him, mirroring the frown. “Not reading?”

“He’s not allowed any visitors,” Sungmin says, slow, like he’s reading off a prompter. He chews on his lips, eyes on the screen. “Oh, yeah. Now, I remember. Yeah, sorry.” He shrugs again.

“What do you mean? Who says?”

Youngjae’s hands are gripping the edge of Sungmin’s desk.

Sungmin eyes his fingers, the line of his shoulders, and raises his eyebrows.

“Dude,” he says calmly. “I don’t make the rules.”

There’s a growl struggling to crawl out of his throat, but Youngjae swallows it down, wincing. He wants to see Daehyun. He wants to see that he’s okay. He just _wants to see him._

“Sorry,” Youngjae grits.

Sungmin nods at him apologetically.

On the way out, Youngjae glances at the dorm’s bulletin board.

There’s a huge poster taking up almost the entire board, promoting the dance happening at the end of the month. For some reason, this rankles his wolf, and he has to stuff his hands into his pants pockets to hide how his nails sharpen.

.

Ms. Ahn is teaching, but Youngjae isn’t really listening.

Daehyun’s desk is still empty, and Jiho is back, and he feels restless, like he could run for miles and miles and still not tire.

Baekhyun is in his class. He’s never really paid much attention to the other omega before, but now that chart burns in his mind, and he considers Baekhyun, lips pressed into a tight line.

Baekhyun is - talkative.

Not in the same way that Daehyun is talkative.

When Daehyun talks it is because he thinks you’re not listening, which is a lie. Youngjae is always listening.

When Baekhyun talks it’s like he knows he is the center of everyone’s attention, and his words are smooth and soft and catchy. He’s pretty, Youngjae supposes, slim in the way most omegas are in their human male bodies, well-groomed and poised.

Daehyun seems wild in comparison - dirt under his fingernails and mouth always full of food, honey-brown hair unkempt and shirt untucked.

“It’s total bullshit,” someone says, close to him.

He turns. It’s Jongup.

“What?”

“It’s total bullshit,” Jongup repeats, deadpan and low, his eyes following Ms. Ahn’s dramatic sweeping hand motions across a map of South Korea.

“What is?”

“This thing we’re learning about? My Dad told me about it, you know? It’s worse than she’s making it sound. Back then, the age of consent wasn’t eighteen. It was, like, _twelve_ , or something ridiculous like that. Can you imagine?” Jongup makes a face and shudders.

“Something you’d like to share?” interrupts Ms. Ahn’s bright, stern voice.

Chairs scrape as other students turn to look. Youngjae ducks his head, willing the attention to fall away from him.

“No,” Jongup says. “Sorry.”

He doesn’t sound sorry, just flat and sweet, and Ms. Ahn doesn’t push. Even though Jongup is a beta now, Youngjae wouldn’t be surprised if he grew into an alpha in the future.

The class turns back around.

“Moonlit Run,” Jongup mumbles again, apparently feeling talkative today. “My Dad said they called it the Virgin Hunt. I mean, I guess my Grandfather called it that.”

Ms. Ahn makes another sweeping motion across the map. She’s saying:

“And the territories near Busan didn’t phase out this ritual until pretty recently, actually. The Moonlit Run was still being used to determine an omega’s mate. Within the past fifty years or so, the territories have made great gains since then, on omega rights, though of course Seoul is still leading the country on that process--”

Jongup says, “Yeah. They replaced the Run with a Dance,” and he sinks lower into his seat, head rolling back as he stares at the ceiling, bored.

Baekhyun turns back to look at them.

He heard.

He raises one elegant eyebrow, and then he smirks, turning back again.

A hiss to his right. Youngjae glances just in time to catch a crumpled up piece of paper before it pegs him in the face. He unfolds it, knowing he shouldn’t even bother but doing it anyway.

_fuck, claim, or kill? -- baek, dae, lu_

He crumples the paper up again, feeling his eyes heat and change. He squeezes his eyelids shut, seeking control.

Jiho snickers. When class ends and the students break for lunch, he slides by Youngjae’s desk and whispers, “I thought of Daehyun when Ahn was talking about the Run. Sluts like him don’t get to Run, do they? Or maybe they like it best?”

Youngjae bares his teeth and Jiho laughs, skipping away, and Jongup places a warm hand on Youngjae’s shoulder.

“He’s not worth it,” he says, but Youngjae doesn’t understand.

It’s Daehyun.

He’s worth it.

.

**Author's Note:**

> [writing](andnowforyaya.tumblr.com)   
>  [twitter](https://twitter.com/andnowforyaya)


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